


My Place is Beside You

by Charity_Pines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam (Voltron) Lives, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Swearing, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Pines/pseuds/Charity_Pines
Summary: Adam is not impulsive, or stupid. In fact, he believes he is quite capable, very intelligent, and rather smart. Yet, none of these things seem to line up with his actions right about now. Or his string of terrible decisions in the last twenty-four hours. As he stands over the cavernous crack in the ground, examining a rather ominous blue glow, he can’t help but mourn his sanity.Or, the reality where Adam isn't left behind.





	1. Stowaway

Adam is not impulsive, or stupid. In fact, he believes he is quite capable, very intelligent, and rather smart. Yet, none of these things seem to line up with his actions right about now. Or his string of terrible decisions in the last twenty-four hours. As he stands over the cavernous crack in the ground, examining a rather ominous blue glow, he can’t help but mourn his sanity.

* * *

 

Only this morning had he spotted a red and white blob in the distance, while trying to enjoy an insufferably lukewarm coffee and a sunrise on the Garrison’s roof. Said red and white blob was kicking up a lot of desert dust as it sped towards a mountain range in the distance, and it clicked in Adam’s mind as to what it could possibly be. Having woken up obscenely early (involuntarily, as per routine for the past year), Adam had busied himself by helping in the infirmary, where a wave of unfortunate drivers had found themselves with broken legs and broken wrists. He wasn’t sure if all Garrison officials were terrible at keeping top-secret information, or just idiots, or on some sort of sleeping drug, but he was lucky enough to overhear the events of the previous night.

 

“...stupid red hoverbike broke my bloody wrist…”

“Who was that kid on the tail? He really screwed me over by helping out with those sharp turns…”

“I don’t believe it, I have a scar! That is  _ so _ badass.”

“..then they drove off a  _ cliff _ ! And survived!”

That’s when Adam had cut off his own eavesdropping, and irritatedly headed for the staff room to gather his wits. He had only known two people capable of something so reckless, one of which was dead. And the other had gone off the grid after being expelled. Naturally, Adam’s curiosity was peaked.

 

So, upon spotting the hoverbike, he raced down the stairs and slipped into the driver’s seat of his car, revving up the engine and speeding in the direction of the vehicle-in-question. The hoverbike was difficult to trace, and Adam was lucky enough to spot it tucked away between a set of rocks on the desert’s edge. He parked his car, took the keys, and noticed the five, fading pairs of footsteps disappearing over a dune and further into the mountains’ alcove.

 

There was a moment, then, when Adam realised what he was doing was the worst possible thing he could do. He would probably lose his job for this. His students would think he was cool, but the higher-ups certainly wouldn't. At the least, he would  _ definitely _ get his pay docked. If not for being ridiculously late, then it would be for overhearing and acting on information he knew wasn’t meant for him. Yet, every ounce of his being was practically  _ begging _ him to keep moving, to follow, pursue, and all around screw himself over. Adam is not impulsive, but he can’t help but give in to his instincts.

_ Just this once. One time can’t hurt. _

 

And not long after that decisive moment, Adam knew he had lied through his teeth. To himself, no less. How degrading.

* * *

 

Adam lowers himself into the mouth of the newly-opened cavern, letting his body dangle over the edge.  _ That’s not safe. That’s very dangerous. _ He mentally backtracks as the situation sets in.

_ This is a terrible idea. I’m going to get fired. Or die. Both, probably. _

As suddenly as his change of mind, Adam goes to pull himself up. There’s a cracking sound.

_ Oh. Shit. _

He doesn’t have time to scream as his hold crumbles under his weight and sends him slipping down a rocky slide of water. His chokes are stifled by a bubbling panic, as the tunnel spits him out face-first into an underground pond. Breath heaving and excess water gargling in his throat, Adam’s hands fly to his face. His nose is bleeding, and his dusty brown hair is soaked. Most importantly, his glasses are miraculously unbroken. Which is one thing he can be glad about, because the black frames are brand new. Yet, in the next few seconds, Adam’s limbs fall slack, and he forgets about his glasses.

 

He’s staring into the yellow eyes of a giant, robotic cat, whos maw has stopped closing and is suspended halfway. He blinks at it, in utter shock, and terror, and he supposes if it could blink, it would do the same. Every sensible part of Adam’s being is screaming to  _ run, what the fuck is that, get out of there immediately, red alert, _ but he had recently decided to ignore the responsible side of himself. So as the giant cat’s jaw shudders loudly, and begins to wrench itself closed, Adam makes and instantly regrets a split-second decision.

 

Perhaps it was because he’d never really worn out his rebellious streak, or that his sarcastic, sassy side thought it would be a great story to tell, but Adam’s bolting before he can think. He’s thanking the lord for all those  _ dreadful _ physical drills the Garrison did every day at stupidly late hours, as his legs tear across the terrain and throw his entire weight into the metal cat’s mouth before it slams shut.

 

The weight of what he’s just done doesn’t hit him until a minute later. He’s on his stomach, gasping into the metal for oxygen, with a distinct, cold ache in his toes from the sogginess of his boots. Then realisation slaps him in the face with a brick.

“Oh, shit.” Adam groans, willing his suddenly heavy limbs to work.

He finds his footing, and there’s black stress spots clouding his vision as he staggers around inside the robot for a bit, before he finds himself in some form of small chamber, leading to a pair of closed doors.

_ This is definitely some sort of alien war ship. _

The interior of the robo-cat doesn’t look like anything Adam has ever seen before, and the Garrison had some of the best tech that he knew of. He tunes in to the voices on the other side of the space doors, listening to the ensuing panic. Panic, at what, he wasn't sure, but he knew if this thing was airborne he was very, very screwed. Suddenly, the robo-cat lurches, and Adam is tossed into the right wall with a grunt.

_ Ow. _

“Did you guys hear that?” A semi-deep and very frightened voice starts.

“Hear what?” Says another higher-pitched, boyish voice.

“That thump! Like a,  _ bam _ ! You know!” A pause, then, “If this thing is haunted, I am  _ so _ outta here.”

“It’s too late to turn back now.” A huskier, deeper voice speaks.

Adam frowns. Those voices- His thoughts are cut off when the robo-cat lurches again, sending Adam sprawling to the left. He hits a door, which opens with a hiss, allowing him to fall through. After knocking down a stack of boxes, the door closes with a resounding click. He can’t help but scowl to himself. Who was piloting this thing? The absence of a seatbelt is reason enough to make him nervous.

“Okay, tell me you heard  _ that _ .” Says the first voice from before.

“Hunk, I can’t hear anything over how  _ awesome _ this is!” This voice is somewhat familiar, it’s light and only a little bit masculine, and he swears that he’s at least heard a vague imitation.

 

Adam assesses his surroundings. Small, enclosed room. Boxes. Very dark.

_ Storage. _ His brain supplies, and he agrees.

Adam stumbles to his feet and moves to the door. He kicks the boxes out of his way. He pushes it, touches it, tries to make it slide - yet it doesn’t yield.

“Don’t tell me this thing only opens from the outside.” He mutters.

After a few minutes of experimentation and desperation, Adam groans and resigns to the back wall, slumping down. Trust his luck to get him stuck in the storage closet of a giant, robotic cat.

He’d have to wait it out.  _ Patience yields focus. _


	2. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam meets Lance, Hunk, Allura and Coran, and reunites with Keith. He hears news, and he's not sure if he's ready to believe it just yet.

Adam begins to believe he’s going delirious. There’s a frustrating ringing in his ears that he can’t get rid of, and there’s the faint sound of explosions in the background. Whenever he gets tossed by a particularly nasty force he lets out a string of unseemly words. He wishes the robo-cat would stop hurtling about, doing flips or going at hyper-speed, because it’s making him sick to his stomach. Frankly, it’s quite uncomfortable.

 

He considers yelling, but when he tries to, his throat is so shot from shock and terror that it comes out a throaty cough. And he decides then that,  _ yes, this was a mistake. _ He’s not sure how long he spends in the storage closet, repeatedly polishing the lens of his glasses or desperately trying to find something to stabilize his compromised sense of balance. When you’re in a small, dark, enclosed space, time seems like little more than a concept. At some stage, there’s a thud, and the mecha-cat rocks, and Adam wishes he had a seatbelt. Then there’s the sound of footsteps, and though Adam lurches to the door and slams his weight against it, he’s certain that the people and the other side cannot hear him over their loud chatter. Then they’re gone, and there’s a terrifying vibration and a sound like a roar, and then there’s silence.

 

The storage closet is  _ dark _ , and the quiet hangs over him like a looming, poisonous cloud. He counts the seconds. Then the minutes. Then he loses count. The room is stifling, and his skin prickles and his fingers twitch, but the air has a strange sense of calm that he’s certain is the only thing keeping him from completely losing it. There’s a breeze even though there shouldn’t be, but Adam is too faint to notice and all he can register is that it feels like the gentle caress of an ocean’s light wind.

_ Breathe. _

_ In, one, two, three, four, five, out, two, three, four, five. _

He’s not sure if it’s the isolation, or if it’s the lack of water, and food, and rest, or the sheer stress and shock that he can’t keep up with, but Adam is  _ tired.  _ How long has it been? Exasperation edges in on the voice in his head. He’s  _ tired. _

_ Let go. _

Adam can’t bring himself to argue.

He blacks out.

* * *

 

 

“Hey, check it out! I didn’t notice this door before.”

“Dude, what are you doing? Don’t open it!”

The voices are watery, poking at the edges of his consciousness, like a tentative child.

“Looks like a storage closet, Hunk. Could have something useful.”

“A storage closet onboard an  _ alien warship _ ! Anything could be in there!”

His head is  _ throbbing _ , and opening his eyes feels like prying open a stubborn lid on a jam jar. He’s met with darkness, and sensations run cold through his skin. He’s lying on cold metal.

“C’mon, Hunk, don’t be such a baby.”

There’s a hissing noise - “Oh, it’s an automatic door-!” - and Adam is momentarily blinded. A wash of bright blue light pours through the doorway, and it almost feels cleansing, except Adam’s skin feels crusty, his head is hurting, and he’s sure his limbs are jelly. His vision fades in and out, until it settles on a misty kind of haze, and Adam is finally able to register the two people standing over him.

 

One is a tall, lanky boy. He’s flabbergasted, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish. He’s tanned skin and hazel hair and all sharp angles, and he holds himself well, though he looks like he could trip at any moment. The other is a stocky male, skin darker than his friend’s, black hair and a striking bandana, with gentle brown eyes and soft edges that remind Adam of cinnamon and hot tea. Adam takes a moment, but eventually, he recognises the two from classes he has taken once or twice.

“Mr.  _ West _ ?” Hunk - he matches the voice to the boy with the bandana - gasps. “Wait, wait wait wait, how did you even  _ get _ here?”

Adam’s mouth is dry, and he blames his shot throat on shock, “I jumped in when it’s jaw was open. I suppose you weren’t looking when this thing took off.”

“What-  _ why _ did you even-” The lanky one steps forward, then he cuts himself off. “No, no, no, okay. We’re getting him to the Princess then we’re gonna go get the Yellow Lion.”

“Yellow lion?” Adam echoes weakly.

He hadn’t really thought lions were yellow, and, really, they’d always struck him as more of an orangey-brown kind of colour. But, in this context, it felt as if the ‘yellow lion’ was a lot more than a maned feline. His thoughts were flying at terminal velocity, and he could blame his airheaded delirium on everything he had experienced so far. In fact,  _ how were these… teenagers holding up so well? _

“C’mon, Hunk. Let’s go. Oh, by the way, my name’s Lance.”

* * *

 

 

Adam remembered Lance, and he realises this when he wanders into the lobby of the absurd, giant castle the blue mecha-cat was stationed outside of. Hunk and Lance left him in the hallway before sprinting back toward the entrance, and Adam was left completely overwhelmed. He knew the two from his classes - while he was more of an arithmetic kind of guy and preferred his math class, he still substituted for other staff members. They were kind and-

... When would he see them again? He had  _ friends _ there. Were they missing him right now? He doesn’t notice he had wandered into what looked to be the control room, and he only snaps to attention when three pairs of eyes fall on him.

“Who are you?” A silverspoon accent, posh, and instantly Adam feels challenged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He snorts, glancing up from his inspection of the setting.

A woman, with flowing silver locks, pointed ears and in formal attire. She’s standing over two poles of some kind - Adam is too tired to think about it - and she glares at him. He glares back.

“Another intruder! Don’t you even look at the Princess, you heathen!”

“Intruder-? Lance and Hunk sent me-”

There’s a blue and orange blur on his flank, and Adam yelps and stumbles back.

“Quiznack! Lucky I recognised you’re no threat, or I would’ve gotten you like-”

The odd, orange-haired and orange-moustached man makes an array of odd noises and odd movements, and Adam can’t help but feel utter confusion. He’s just  _ tired _ .

 

“...Adam?”

He starts from his thoughts, a sensation like pins and needles runs down his spine and he turns too fast - he gets dizzy - to meet the gaze across the room. It’s the familiar pale skin and dark raven hair, unclipped, and that awful choice of clothing and those familiar grey-indigo eyes and Adam is running before he can think, again, and before the latter can dodge Keith is swept into a bear hug.

“It’s you, god, I was so worried, I thought, where  _ were _ you, I came to see you but you were never there, and I left things for you but still you never showed, Keith, I was so  _ worried _ I didn’t know what to-”

“Uh, yeah, right, Adam-”

Adam lets go, Keith drops to his feet. Adam had spent a long time, trekking over to Keith’s shack in the desert, leaving supplies for him, knocking, and getting no response. He had been scared, but every time he returned the supplies he had left were gone, and that was hope, but he was still always  _ worried _ and  _ panicking _ because Keith was family-

“I’m…” Keith diverts his gaze, and Adam knows it means something like guilt because he’d see the very same gesture when Keith stole the cookies from the cookie jar or hid Takas- his fiance’s keys.

“I’m really sorry. For… for worrying you.” Keith makes a weird gesture with his hand, and it’s odd because his arms are still folded, but all Adam feels is surges of relief because  _ Keith is safe, this is closure, he’s here, I can see him, you would be glad, and relieved. I’m sorry it took so long. _

Adam lands a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and the ravenette stiffens a little, but the taller man just sighs and tightens his grip, as if to reassure himself that  _ this, this is real, _ and he says,

“It’s okay, kid. You’re here now, that’s what matters.”

Keith is silent. He stares at the floor, drawn in on himself, before he takes a breath, “Adam, listen-”

“Pardon the interruption,” The elf-eared woman starts, and the irritation is written all over Keith’s face, “But I have located the Red Lion. Coran, take down it’s coordinates immediately.”

“On it, Princess!” The man salutes, and scurries off to the screen.

 

“What are these, ‘Lions’?” Adam questions, because he’s heard the phrase numerous times, and it’s starting to bug him that he doesn’t know.

“Did you not come here in one?” The woman’s brows knit together.

“I don’t even know who you are.” The latter responds drily.

“Oh. I apologise. I am Princess Allura of the planet Altea. This is the Castle of Lions.” She holds her head proudly and straightens a bit.

“She’s been asleep for ten-thousand years in a cryopod or something.” Keith adds sullenly, “And it looks as if she and Coran are the last Alteans.”

“Oh.” A stone drops in his stomach, and he feels he should tread more carefully,  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“There is no point dwelling on it now.” Allura states curtly, “But, as you need to know, the five Lions are fragments of the Defender of the Universe, Voltron. The Blue Lion is the one you arrived in.”

“Wait, Adam, how did you even… get… here?” Keith interjects.

“I followed you into the…  _ den _ of the _ Blue Lion _ ,” He tests the words, and they feel awkward and extravagant, because, frankly, a lot has happened in a few hours and Adam can barely register anything that is being said to him. “Then I jumped into the mouth of the  _ Blue Lion _ , and I suppose nobody noticed, but I got stuck in the storage closet, where Lance and Hunk found me just now.”

Keith’s eyes turn dark, and he mutters, “Lance. Right.”

“Stop your brooding.” Adam smiles, playfully knocking his shoulder against Keith’s.

Keith’s scowl deepens.

“What did you want to tell me?”

 

Keith hesitates. His hands grip at his jacket a little tighter, and he bites at his lip.

“It’s Shiro.”

Keith looks to Adam, gauging him, and Adam balks. He hasn’t heard that name in a long time, and even now the tips of his fingers feel numb and cold at the slightest mention of the fiance. The serious smile he’d been using falls from his face, and his foot begins to tap - an old habit - and his breathing is coming faster than he would’ve liked.

“What  _ about _ him?” He says, venomous, and Keith shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Shiro… he’s… he’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more exposition than anything. It was hard to write, probably because it's riding the coattails of Season 8. And officially, this fic is now of the fix-it kind. But on another note, I promise stuff will pick up next chapter.


	3. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a moment where nothing is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to anyone who thought the Adashi reunion would be nice and warm and happy.  
> But this is just a prelude to what's to come.

One year ago, everything Adam loved had been torn away from him.

 

There were moments in his past that he hoped he would never have to relive. Yet, every night he would glance up at the sky, with it’s pearly white stars glittering innocently against inky blackness, and a brief flash of  _ everything _ would spark through his veins like an electric shock.

Denial, betrayal, anger, sorrow, fear, grief and then despair.

Every emotion burned hot and cold, pushing and biting at the most isolated regions of his mind, and he would do everything he could to push them back;  _ forget _ . Sometimes, he’d cope by focusing on the fleetingness of sleep in the recesses of his room, other times, he’d drown his thoughts in the carmine depths of red wines with fancy labels, and yet it always seemed to end up the same.

Tracing the letters on someone’s favourite mug, and wistfully staring at memories immortalised in a bland wooden frame on his bedside table.

 

Yet, right now, as the words fall from Keith’s lips, Adam can’t help anything as those moments breach the floodgates he had so desperately reinforced, and swamp his mind with suppressed recollections.

“He’s… alive?” Adam repeats, breathless.

He’s unaware of the confused stare of Princess Allura, at the altar with her hands on two glowing circles, and the solemn look in the eye of the odd man named Coran. Adam runs a hand through his hair - which feels dustier and grittier than it ever has, with sand and dirt and water mixed through it - and inhales sharply. He rolls those three words around in his mind, and they sound so much more desperate compared to when they were spoken aloud.

_ Shiro is alive. _

And suddenly, a wave of nausea tumbles over him, sweeping him away and into the past.

* * *

 

_ “Don’t expect me to be here when you get back.” _

 

Bitter. Bitter bitter bitter bitter. Adam was  _ bitter. _

There were a million reasons he didn’t want Takashi to go on that stupid mission. Among them was  _ how long would it take? _ \- a question that he had asked his other half more than twice, to which the only response he earned was  _ ‘I’m not sure’ _ and nothing more. Another reason was  _ why are you going? _ , to which he received another lackluster response:  _ ‘I have to go on this mission’ _ .

Takashi was being an  _ idiot _ and it wasn’t fair. Adam had been told he was being childish, selfish, even, that the mission came first, that it was  _ ‘necessary for science’ _ , and every time, Adam wanted to spit poison and say  _ ‘bullshit’ _ because was  _ science _ worth sending your crew members to unknown sectors of the universe? To collect something as trivial as  _ ice _ ?

 

Adam was no fool. Takashi’s behaviour wasn’t unusual, he had been stubbornly cold before. But there were things  _ here _ , with him, that they both loved. Their home, their friends, that gremlin of an emo child with an odd obsession with the kitchen knives. He’d be leaving all of this behind to go  _ far away _ , with no certainty of return, into uncharted territories beyond the boundaries of Earth. There were questions.

_ Why is he leaving? _

_ What about Keith? What about me? _ _  
_ _ Is this more important than everything we have? _

_ Is it more important than everything we’ve built? _

Evening brought another sequence of events that Adam hoped he would never see. But something, locked deep in the back of his mind, knew that this was going to happen. And he hated every second of that resented feeling of  _ just knowing _ .

 

Confrontation was inevitable when you lived in the same house. When you were tied by the stupid gold bands on your fingers. The night before the ascent to Kerberos was stifling.

 

Especially when you both had obligations to an idiot kid brooding at the dining table, ignoring the plate of home-cooked food that Adam had begrudgingly prepared. Tension weighed on them like tens of thousands of stones. Nobody missed it.

“Keith,” Takashi’s voice was soft, lacking it’s usual sternness, “Eat your dinner.”

Keith sniffed, arms folded familiarly. Adam stabbed at his food with his fork, and chewed and swallowed and avoided his lover’s gaze with everything he had.

_ You’re acting immaturely, West. Shirogane’s going on this mission. _

“Keith.” Takashi repeated.

“I’m going to sleep.” The young boy ground out, eyes stubbornly set on the ground.

The chair grated against the floorboards painfully, as Keith turned and stormed up the stairs. The uncomfortable air pressed harder into Adam’s skin, yet he refused to speak.

 

_ Silence. _

“Adam-”

His eyes narrowed, and the prongs screeched against the plate. The man across from him winced.

“I have to go.” Shiro managed to assert.

“No, you don’t.” Adam’s voice was icy, as a cherry tomato flew out from under his utensil.

He cursed under his breath.

“It’s too late for me to back out now. I signed up for this.” Shiro’s voice was earnest, and he nudged weakly at the cherry tomato on his own dinner plate.

“Without thinking.”

The pilot sighed defeatedly, flicking at a leafy piece of lettuce. The teacher scowled, dropping his fork and his knife and snatching up Keith’s unfinished meal and stalking to the kitchen.

“Adam, you don’t… I have to go. It’s… I just have to. It’s my dream.”

Adam didn’t want to repeat his words from their conversation before, with him and his bag at the counter and Takashi sitting guiltily by the coffee table. So stiffly, he growled, “You’re going to leave everything we have and everything we’ve built, Takashi. Forgive me for thinking abandoning Keith isn’t your wisest choice.”

 

“This isn’t just about Keith-”   
“Then what?” Adam whirled on him, rage boiling just under the surface. “What is it about?”

The man, still at the dining table, wore an expression of anxious resignation, “It’s so much more than that. I couldn’t expect you to understand.”

“You couldn’t expect  _ me _ to understand?  _ I live my life for you. _ You’re my other half, we thrive  _ together _ . You have the nerve to say you’re going to leave us behind - me and Keith - and then say that  _ you don’t expect me to understand _ ?” The fire under his skin was frothing, like a volcano ready to burst at the seams, ugly and suffocating. “After everything, when will  _ you _ understand in that  _ thick _ head of yours that you and I are a  _ team _ . We go in  _ together _ , and come out  _ together,  _ and you’re isolating us from you, Takashi.  _ I don’t believe you have the fucking nerve to say I couldn’t understand. _ ”

“You’re being selfish-”

“ **_Selfish_ ** ?” Adam snapped, Keith’s plate clattering into the sink as anger burst through every one of his pores, hot and unbearable, “I’m thinking of Keith! You! Us! You’re going off to your  _ fucking _ dreams and leaving everything you ever loved  **_behind_ ** ! You brought back a fucking child off the streets, where he was left alone, only to fucking  **_abandon_ ** him again! You’re leaving me, after all that  _ shit _ before we finally managed to go out for the first time! All those moments we had, do those mean  _ nothing to you _ ?”

He didn’t know how long he spent yelling, holding back tears that were just  _ barely _ not spilling from his eyes, but eventually, Takashi’s mouth clamped shut, and he hunched low in his chair.

“It was a choice I had to make.” He whispered, voice hoarse. “I… I’ll… goodnight.”

 

Adam admits, in hindsight, every word out of his mouth was harsh. People say stupid things when they’re in love. And not always the good kind. Takashi’s face had spelt regret the moment he had said anything, and maybe, he would take it back. But he can’t. As his fiance’s footfalls faded up the stairs, the frustration and grief and  _ anger _ subsided into a nagging feeling in his stomach, and not long later, the teacher found himself staring at the ring on his finger. Gold, a symbol of everything they were  _ meant _ to have  _ together _ . It seemed dull and unpolished. He set off for sleep.

 

He entered their room, and slipped under the sheets. On his flank, Shiro slept, soundless and deaf to the world. Even with his glasses laid on the bedside table beside him, next to the alarm set for five in the morning, Adam drank in every feature on his beloved’s face.

He wouldn’t forget. And he wouldn’t forgive. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But Shiro had not given in, not when Adam had attempted reason, and not when he screamed his voice and his heart  _ raw _ , and it was pointless fighting now, even when all his emotions bubbled and begged for him to shake his fiance awake and slap him to his senses. He was tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hands clammy and fear swelling in his throat. But he couldn’t help but stare.

_ Peaceful. Radiant. _

Even when the world was against him, Takashi would never give in. Even when he was living on borrowed time, he would only shine brighter. Adam respected him for that. He loved him for it.

 

And really, under all the fading red he was seeing, Adam knew.

_ He just wanted Takashi to get out alive. _

* * *

 

He woke up the next morning with a note on Shiro’s table, folded carefully in half. The engagement ring laid, bare and alone, neatly on top of it. The bed was cold, and so was the air, but the slip of paper felt searing hot in Adam’s shaking hands. The scrawly handwriting was blurred by old and new tear stains.

_ I’m sorry. _

* * *

 

 

The look on Adam’s face may have once reflected Keith’s own. Paling skin, and cloudy eyes that spelt innumerable feelings with too many meanings. Adam’s usual, life-loving glow was gone, and he stares through the ravenette, observing a time that Keith knew and would never forget.

“Adam,” He says softly, quietly, as if the man would shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“He’s… Takashi, he’s…  _ alive _ ?”

He’s said those words over and over at this point, and Keith sympathises. Takashi had been Adam’s light in his life, and the two together had been unstoppable. Keith thought their dual act unbearable, until it was gone. He pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

_ Not now. _

“Yeah,” Keith answers, staring at the floor. “He’s alive.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s… coming back.”

Adam’s expression turns hard, and Keith winces, and he knows the latter has heard those words too many times to believe them. But it’s all he has to say.

 

A few days ago, Keith had thought he’d have too  _ many _ words to say, if he could ever bear to look Adam in the face again. But here he is, voiceless for all but what sounded more like pleas than facts.

Keith could picture their reunion in his head, heartfelt glances and lingering touches; a separated duo dancing around each other in an attempt to gather themselves before they trip and fall into a tangle of their own problems. Or maybe it would be tender; leaping into the arms of a loved one and begging them to never leave again. Forgiveness.

Somehow, as Adam’s face turns dark, Keith knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

 

“How long do the Paladins have left, Coran?”

“Another thirty dobashes, Princess.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

Keith is drawn back from his thoughts, and Adam inhales sharply. His eyes are set on some point in the distance, and the ravenette notices Coran is frowning at him and Allura is having a pointed glaring contest with the floor.

 

A deadened silence settles on the room.

Keith can sense a storm on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I released this chapter early so I could write something Christmas-y later in the week. Also because I basically drafted the whole thing in two hours. I basically decided I'd update on Sundays, but because of the early release, there won't be a Sunday chapter. I promise there WILL be something nice and light-hearted.
> 
> IT'S COMING. There won't be sadness forever.  
> I promise.


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